


With This Ring

by Gigi_Sinclair



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Sinclair/pseuds/Gigi_Sinclair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get a little crazy at Daisy and Alfred's wedding celebration. Inspired by a Tumblr conversation about the first gay wedding at Downton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With This Ring

Everybody came back to Downton after the ceremony.

Jimmy was pleased about that. For one anxious moment, he’d been worried he may have to set foot on a farm, but Mrs. Patmore had laid out a spread at home. They invited Mr. Mason, of course, but he shook his head. “It’ll be for the young people,” he said, and Jimmy could not remember a single other occasion on which Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson had been classified as such. He doubted they could, either. “I’ll see the happy couple later.” He kissed Daisy on the cheek, carefully avoiding her long bridal veil, and went home, to the place that was now Daisy and Alfred’s home, too.

Jimmy was happy for them. He truly was.

“I saw you crying,” Thomas whispered, as they arrived back at the house.

“It were all them candles,” Jimmy replied. “Mr. Branson must have enjoyed it, they had enough for a bloody Catholic mass.” But that wasn’t the whole truth. He would never admit it, not under threat of torture, but Jimmy had let slip a tear or two as Daisy and Alfred kissed. Not only for what they had, but for what he never would.

Not that he wanted anything as soppy as a wedding. Even if they could, even if they lived in some magical fairy tale land where a man like Jimmy could marry a man like Thomas, Jimmy wouldn’t want to. He didn’t like that sort of thing, not at all. He had no time for the candles or the fancy clothes or for being the centre of attention. He’d hate everybody knowing how he felt about Thomas, and he squirmed at the thought of all of them—Mr. Carson, Lady Grantham, the vicar—knowing exactly how they would be spending their wedding night. It was indecent, disgusting, obscene. _But it would be nice to have the option_ , a small, quiet voice said. It was the voice Jimmy usually tried to ignore.

Back in the servants’ hall, Mrs. Patmore had surpassed herself. She hadn’t let Daisy do a thing—“You can’t make your own wedding feast, it’ll be unlucky or something”—so she and Ivy had been at it for days, with some help from a few of the village women. There were puddings and tarts, a roast chicken and a roast beef and some sort of vegetable dish that looked like cat’s vomit, although Alfred assured everyone it was “the latest thing in London.” The centrepiece of it all was the wedding cake. That had come from the bakery and was white and blue, two tiers, with a little bundle of flowers on the top. Daisy cried when she saw it. Jimmy thought she might have done that a bit sooner, like when she came into the church on Mr. Mason’s arm and realized she was marrying Alfred, but he’d never understood her.

The best part of the feast was the wine. The family had come to the ceremony, but in lieu of attending the feast, Lord Grantham had donated half a dozen bottles of his best vintages. Jimmy couldn’t wait to tuck in. He poured his first glass before Alfred and Daisy even came into the servants’ hall. “It’s traditional to wait for the toast,” Thomas told him, smiling, as Jimmy took a long drink.

“I’ll refill it before that." Jimmy drank again. The wine was very good. They wouldn’t see its like again anytime soon, not unless Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes gave in and tied the knot.

“Don’t lose your head, will you?” Thomas counselled. He’d already lit up a cigarette, Jimmy noticed, and nobody was complaining about that.

Jimmy shrugged. “I’m at home. How much trouble can I get into?”

“Famous last words, darling,” Thomas said, quietly. Then the happy couple were making their entrance and Thomas rested his cigarette in his mouth to join in the applause.

***

“I tell you, Jimmy,” Alfred leaned in close, his arm heavy across Jimmy’s shoulders. He smelled like wine and roast beef, and his eyes, unfocused, searched Jimmy’s face. There is nothing worse, Jimmy thought, than a man who can’t hold his liquor. He clung to the chair in front of him to keep from sliding to the floor, and took another drink. “It’s the most wonderful thing. The most wonderful. Thing. Marriage.”

“You’ve only been married for…” Jimmy looked at the clock. The numbers swam in front of him. “A few hours.”

“But it’s the most wonderful thing,” Alfred insisted. “You should try it. Daisy!” He hollered, although she and Ivy were right beside them. Thomas was across the room, smoking and talking with Bates, Anna and Mr. Branson, who’d come down just as Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes retired. Mrs. Patmore had disappeared with one of the bottles of wine some time earlier. Jimmy wondered, occasionally, whether somebody ought to look for her, but he had yet to summon the energy to suggest it. “Shouldn’t Jimmy try being married?”

“Oh, yes, Jimmy.” Daisy nodded, solemnly. “It would be just the thing for you.”

“I wouldn’t mind giving it a go,” Ivy put in.

Alfred brayed, a startling noise that nearly knocked the glass out of Jimmy’s hand. “Jimmy would be more likely to marry Mr. Barrow.”

The world stopped, but Thomas went right on talking. He hadn’t heard, thank God. That meant Jimmy could deal with this himself. “Just what do you mean by that?” Jimmy glared, danger in his eyes. Not enough danger, apparently. Alfred kept laughing.

“You’re best mates, aren’t you? You spend all your time together. I think you’d make a lovely couple.” He batted his eyelashes.

It was an unfunny joke, then. Jimmy should have known that. Alfred wasn’t clever enough to put two and two together while he was sober; he certainly couldn’t do it drunk. “Give over,” Jimmy said, but Alfred, captivated by his own wit, called, “Mr. Barrow!”

“Yes?” Thomas exhaled a smoky breath and looked up.

“Alfred!” Jimmy hissed. “Shouldn’t you be off bedding your wife?” The mental images that conjured up were far from appealing, but he was desperate. Alfred either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“Would you like to marry Jimmy?”

Thomas’ hesitation lasted only a second. “I’d be honoured." His tone was serious. Jimmy smiled despite himself.

“Come on, then.” Alfred grabbed Jimmy by the hand and dragged him over to Thomas. On the way, he plucked the bridal veil from Daisy’s head, bringing a significant amount of hair with it.

“Ouch! Alfred!” Alfred ignored the plaintive cries of his new wife in favour of pushing Jimmy towards Thomas, nearly into his lap.

“Come on, then.” Alfred cried, gleefully. “Let’s do it!”

“Alfred, you’re drunk.” Thomas was clearly amused. _It’s not funny_ , Jimmy fumed. He would have thought Thomas, of all people, would see that.

“It’s just a bit of fun.” Alfred replied, carelessly.

“Alfred.” Mr. Bates broke in, his voice cold. Jimmy had never liked him, and he was fairly certain Bates wouldn’t pause to spit on him if he were on fire, but if Bates stopped this, he would be Jimmy’s new best friend.

“Now, now, Mr. Bates.” Mr. Branson nudged him. Bates didn’t move. “Surely you remember your wedding day.” _And he,_ Jimmy thought, _is my new worst enemy._

Thomas stood up, cigarette still in his hand. “We’ll need an officiant.”

“I’ll do it.” Anna stood up. Her hugely pregnant stomach spread far out in front of her, meaning Jimmy and Thomas had to back up, further away from the chairs. “But not without the rings.”

“Here.” Alfred reached onto the table. He picked up two lengths of the greasy string used to tie up the beef. With his other hand, he put the veil onto Jimmy’s head. It fell in front of Jimmy’s face, obscuring the room in a mass of scratchy, semi-translucent lace.

“I don’t think,” Thomas replied. “I’m not marrying anybody with that rubbish.” Jimmy pushed the veil back. Why was Thomas arguing? Why was he even going along with this? In a long line of stupid ideas proposed by Alfred, this was the stupidest by far. Jimmy couldn’t explain why it gave him a little frisson of excitement, deep in his gut. He blamed the wine.

“Here.” Apparently, stupidity was contagious through marriage. Daisy passed her idiotic husband two circles, made from bits of the silver foil that had decorated the legs of the roast chicken.

“That’s better." Clearly, Anna had also lost her mind. She took the “rings” and Thomas took a drag on his cigarette.

“Put that thing out,” Jimmy snapped. Where did he think they were? Gretna Green? “I’m not marrying you while you’re smoking.”

“Sorry.” Thomas stubbed out the cigarette on a saucer. He took Jimmy’s right hand in his. They’d never touched like this in front of anybody, let alone in front of nearly everybody they knew. Jimmy’s heart beat faster, and his lips were suddenly dry.

“Wrong hand,” Anna said.

“Sorry.” Thomas picked up Jimmy’s left hand instead.

“Because it’s Alfred and Daisy’s wedding day,” Anna began. It wasn’t the vow Jimmy would have chosen, but he went along with it. “And because you’re such good friends, it is my honour to pronounce you man and…” She looked at Jimmy.

“Man,” he put in, because the grin on her face told him she was about to say something else.

“It’s the happiest day of my life.” Thomas slid one of the foil rings onto Jimmy’s finger. His voice was sarcastic, but when Thomas’ eyes met his, Jimmy could see nothing but true feeling there. He swallowed back tears and took the other ring.

“Does this mean,” Jimmy said, putting the ring as far down Thomas’ finger as he could get before he hit the glove, “that we get our own cottage?” He aimed to make his voice light and cheeky, but it came out more sincerely than he intended.

“You’re not living next door to us,” Bates said. Everybody laughed, and Thomas sat down again, reaching for a new cigarette. That’s it? Jimmy thought. Where’s my kiss? He wasn’t going to play along with this stupid little sketch just to miss out on the best bit.

“Wait a minute.” Jimmy looked at Thomas. Thomas looked back. There was a warning in Thomas’ eyes, which Jimmy found both endearing and insulting. How stupid did Thomas think he was?

He leaned over and planted a kiss on Thomas’ head. It was quick. Jimmy barely even had time to smell the pomade or feel the stiff softness of Thomas’ hair beneath his lips before he forced himself to stand up again. “Now we’re married.” His voice cracked.

Alfred broke the ensuing silence with a loud laugh and an even louder clap. The others joined in the applause, and Jimmy’s face flushed. He reached for another glass of wine, then hesitated. _Perhaps,_ he thought, for the first time in his entire adult life, _you’ve had enough to drink._

Later, once Alfred and Daisy had trundled off to their new marital home at the Mason farm, Anna and Bates and the Bates-to-be had gone back to their cottage, and the others had disappeared upstairs, Jimmy found himself slumped at the table with a half-eaten slice of wedding cake in front of him. He was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep. Footsteps came in and Jimmy looked up to see Thomas standing at the end of the table. “Did you find Mrs. Patmore?” Jimmy asked.

Thomas nodded. “She wanted me to know that Daisy was like a daughter to her and she doesn’t know what she’ll do now she’s gone.”

“Oh. What did you say?”

“That she can always visit. I don’t know. I would have said she wasn’t losing a daughter, she was gaining a son, but who wants Alfred for a son?” Thomas sat down beside him. Jimmy straightened up, leaning against the back of the chair.

“It’ll be different, though, with them gone.”

“Don’t you start.”

“I’m not.” Alfred was still more trouble than he was worth, but Jimmy had to admit, he’d grown on him. _Like a particularly tenacious mould_ , Jimmy added, internally. He sighed, heavily, but before he could say anything, Thomas held up a hand.

“Don’t think about what we can’t have. Appreciate what we do.”

“I do.” Jimmy did appreciate it, all the time. Except when Thomas was being particularly asinine, and except on days like today.

Thomas smiled at him. “I do, too.” He glanced down. “You’re still wearing your ring, I see.”

Jimmy spun the bit of foil, still wrapped around his finger. “I can’t take it off. It’s so valuable, it might get stolen.” Jimmy looked over. Thomas’ ring was still there, too, jammed awkwardly on top of the cut-off finger of his glove.

Thomas sat for a moment, looking at his own hand thoughtfully. Then, he stood up. “Come on.” He put his other hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Together?” Jimmy asked, hopefully. It was a rarer occurrence than he would have liked. Thomas was still petrified about being found out, and while Jimmy couldn’t blame him, it didn’t make him feel any more appreciative to have a lover he could hardly ever touch.

“You know I’d like to, Jimmy, but…”

Jimmy cut him off. “It’s our wedding night, Thomas.”

Thomas laughed. It was a wonderful sound. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” He held out his hand, the one with the ring. Jimmy took it and followed him up the stairs, his stomach full of wine and his heart full of love.


End file.
